


Kids Should Remain Supervised At All Times

by WinterEyes



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Companionable Snark, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Spoilers for Uncharted 2, Worried Sully
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 12:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9439130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterEyes/pseuds/WinterEyes
Summary: Shortly after the events of 'Among Thieves', Sully finally learns the details of what became known as 'The Train Incident'.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So Uncharted 3 may have stolen my brain and actually got me writing again...hopefully this is a good thing as this may end up as part of a series. I loved how no. 3 expanded the father/son relationship between Drake and Sully, it was in that light that this little plot-bunny hopped into my head.

Another day, another tip about mysterious treasure that ended up going nowhere, another couple of mooks trying to beat them down in a dingy alleyway. Sully tried not to enjoy it too much, he had the feeling Drake was just killing time until Elena was recovered enough to fly out and join them. He could never resist a mystery though, so Sully got his partner back and buried any residual twinge of guilt about abandoning the hunt for the Cintamani Stone. 

Out of the corner of his eye Sully noticed a thug duck under Drake's swing, delivering a short jab to the adventurer's unprotected left side; not entirely unexpected, he mused, given the kid's tendency for heavy roundhouse punches that Sully blames entirely on himself. 

What was unexpected was the way Drake went white and crumpled, folding in an instinctive motion to protect himself with a pained whimper. Sully broke away from his opponent with a savage elbow to the face, body checking the man standing over a now prone Drake with his foot pulled back for a kick. With Nate on the floor, fighting fair was the last thing on Sully's mind. A swift knee between the legs of the unbalanced man followed by a solid punch to the nose ended the fight. 

There was a pained cough as Drake struggled into a sitting position; Sully crouched to place a gently restraining hand on his shoulder. "Easy kid, you get shot when I wasn't looking?"

Drake shrugged him off and got shakily to his feet, his amused snort of breath at odds with the hand pressed between rib cage and hip. Sully stood with arms folded, not liking the way Drake avoided meeting his eyes.

"Seriously Nate, the last time you managed to hide anything from me you were 15 and swiped a key I paid a pretty penny for. What the Sam Hill is going on?"

"I'm fine Sully, no worse than usual. Things got a little rough in Nepal , that's all." 

" _No worse than usual_ , that's what bothers me - I've seen the shit you get up to. After I left things seem to have gone to shit and back; Elena calls me to meet her in the Himalayas after you ditch her to jump onto a moving train - then next thing I know she's in bandages, you wouldn't leave her side and every time I asked Chloe what happened before Shambhala she got this sad look on her face and said she didn't want to talk about it." 

Sully was aware his voice was louder than it should be but couldn't bring himself to care. He blew out a long breath, turning to look at his one-time pupil wearily. 

"Goddamnit Nate," he said softly, "I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me, but I don't deserve to be kept in the dark." 

Drake straightened, surprise and guilt flickering across his face.

"Sully, I promise it isn't like that." He paused, looking pointedly at the men beginning to groan at their feet. "But I don't think now is the best time for stories, so can it wait until later?" 

Sully rolled his eyes and gently pushed Drake in the direction of the alley mouth. 

"Always an excuse with you..." 

Drake starts to look less pale on the trip back to Cutter's flat, a good London base even when the man in question is off chasing Enochian script in Syria. By the time the hitch in his breathing also finally smoothed out, Sully had firmly squashed the impulse to knock him out and drag him to a hospital.

It's harder to loom at the kid now he's as tall as Sully, with a good few extra pounds of muscle into the bargain, but when Drake opens his mouth as soon as they're through the door he gives it a damn good try. 

"Story-time can wait," he says, pointing at the sofa. "Let's take a look at you." 

He tries to picture Nate at 15 as it makes it so much easier to project a stern front, leaves no room for any of Drake's usual banter and good-hearted evasion that keeps up the impression of the indestructible fortune hunter. 

He regretted it a second later as Drake sighed and stiffly pulled his t-shirt over his head, the mess of bruising looking even worse against the mostly-white square of adhesive plaster sitting just above the left hip bone. 

"Is that what I think it is Nate?" He points at the square, gut tensing at the little speckles of fresh red on the surface. "As for the rest, I don't wanna alarm you but I think a mountain fell on you some time back there." 

Drake sank gingerly onto the sofa, keeping entirely too stiff for Sully's liking. 

"Funny you should mention it, I think it was about the only thing that didn't." He leant his head back, eyes closing wearily. "There's no big story. Harry got a lucky shot in when I tried to rescue Chloe, I ended up derailing my part of the train as I got away. Tenzin found me in the snow after I got away from Lazarevic's goons, he patched me up at his village and I woke up to find Elena already there and waiting for me." 

"Sure, business as usual." Sully grated, trying to keep his fingers gentle as he peeled plaster away from skin. "Jesus kid, they sew you up with up with twine or something?" 

"Dried yak gut actually, I'm told it's almost as good as OW!" 

Nate broke off as he flinched away from Sully's probing touch, glaring at him reproachfully. 

"Whatever it is I don't think it's agreeing with you...you do know stitches are meant to come out at some point, yeah?" 

He felt gingerly over the inflamed skin, glad to see the only blood was coming from the suture holes rather than the centre. 

"Looks like your luck is still holding, don't think this is infected or coming apart." Sully pulled his penknife from a pocket, his other hand resting on Drake's chest to keep him still. "Not kidding about these stitches though, gonna do more harm than good if I leave them."

"Listen to Mr. Expert over there!" 

"Like I've never patched you up before Nate. Those years in the Navy have to be good for something." 

Sully is grateful Cutter has been in their line of work a long time, there is a fully stocked first-aid kit in one of the kitchen cupboards. He comes back to find Drake has raised his left arm to grip the back of the sofa, giving Sully more room as he begins working the blade under to cut each tough strand. For once there is no sarcastic complaining, just the occasional flinch and sucked in breath. 

Sully smoothed a fresh dressing down and sat back, looking across to a small smile that he learned over a decade ago was his own private thank you. Of course, the silence rarely lasted long. 

"Sonofabitch that last one hurt, work on the bedside manner will ya?" 

"I will if you'll watch that mouth kid, don't know where the hell you picked all that up." 

"Must have been some crazy old sailor I grew up with. I guess something he taught me had to stick." 

Sully threw Drake's t-shirt at him with a laugh as he headed for the kitchen. He came back with a couple of beers and the remote, dragging the coffee table closer so they could both put their feet up. 

"Just that, huh?" 

Drake clinked bottles with him before taking a long swallow. "Maybe a couple of things." 

About half a hour later Sully snagged the drooping bottle before it could spill, Drake's eyes not even flickering open as he covered him with one of the duvets. 

"'nks Sully," he mumbled without waking. 

"Any time Nate," he replied, turning off the TV and heading for the bedroom. "Just please Christ not too many times."


End file.
